San Francisco
by rentaholic00
Summary: Roger saved his money to take Mark on a trip. My first MarkRoger. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N – **I wrote this during school when I had a stupid sub in math…I was really bored and she wasn't teaching…

"…twenty-four, twenty-five and twenty-one cents." Roger stared intently at the little stack of money on the metal table. He had saved his money for almost a year. Seven hundred twenty-five dollars and twenty cents. Roger was pretty damn proud of himself. Ever since Mark had admitted to Roger that he was gay, he had had a difficult time showing Roger affection. In public, at least. So Roger made up his mind then and there to take Mark to San Francisco.

"Mark! Marky, come here a minute!" Roger hollered in the direction of their bedroom, quite loud for 7:30 in the morning.

The small blonde stumbled sleepily out of the room, pushing his glasses up his nose and running a pale hand through the spiky blonde hair.

"What?" Mark asked, an irritated tone colored his words. "I was sleeping, trying to make up for lost time from last night." He smiled, remembering the goings on from the previous night.

"Sorry…that was pretty awesome, though, wasn't it?" Roger smirked.

"Anyway, what was so important that you had to wake me up?" Mark's face twisted into a playful scowl.

"I'm taking you to San Francisco." Roger looked at Mark carefully, examining his expression.

Mark knew exactly why Roger wanted to take him, but he played oblivious, just to see what Roger would say.

"Why?"

Roger had his speech all laid out, because he wanted to be prepared in case Mark didn't understand. But when Mark looked him with all his adorable 'ignorance,' Roger completely forgot what to say.

"B…because…" He stopped

"Because I'm not touchy-feely with you in public and you want me to see that it's okay?" Mark bit his lip. That came out harsher than intended.

Roger blushed and hung his head in shame. "Yes," he muttered. "I'm sorry…I just wanted to help make you more comfortable…" He trailed off.

"Rog, this still feels kinda weird to me. I mean, from Maureen to nothing to you is a weird transition. I still need to adjust. Please, please give me some more time." Mark had noticed that he was begging and slightly whining, and had moved almost two feet towards Roger.

"Marky…" He let out a frustrated sigh. "Alright, but can we still go just to have fun? I love San Francisco." Roger hesitated. "And, um…I saved up my money for eleven months so that we could go."

Mark felt his jaw drop. He was astonished. Roger had never been able to save money for anything other than drugs. Mark was wondering whether he had borrowed money from Joanne again to buy 'groceries,' whether he had stolen someone's coke, or…

"Rog? Have you been clean the entire time?"

"Hmm? Yeah, and all for you, Marky." Roger walked the rest of the distance between the two towards Mark. Roger's large, tan hands took Mark's small pale ones in his. He leaned in towards the smaller, blonde boy's face and kissed him sweetly on the lips. Mark instantly responded and kissed Roger back. They pulled apart slowly and morphed into a hug.

Roger wound his arms around Mark's waist and the filmographer found his arms snaking around the rocker's neck. Pale fingers combed through the long, dirty blonde hair that Mark secretly adored. He threatened almost daily to attack Roger's hair in his sleep with a pair of scissors, but Mark never would, not for anything. Roger's strong, callused hands stroked the back of Mark's head and neck, an action that sent Mark's heart beating crazily every time.

"I love you," Roger muttered into the spiky blonde hair.

Mark, his usual self, blushed bright red.

He eased his way out of Roger's hold and laced his fingers through the tall, skinny boy's fingers.

He glanced up at Roger's face. It was still painted with hurt because Mark had not accepted his invitation.

"Let's go pack, baby," Mark said sweetly, smiling up at Roger.

Roger's smile was so huge that it lit up the entire city. "Okay." And the two walked hand in hand to the bedroom to pack for the trip lovingly paid for by the irresponsible Roger Davis.


	2. Chapter 2

****

Author's Note – Just so ya'll know, San Francisco is the gay capital of the US, so that's why I chose it for the setting. And no offense to Italians…you guys are my favorites!!!

Disclaimer – Can I just steal them from Jonathan? And I don't own Post-It.

Chapter Two Mark 

As we packed, I thought. I was astonished that Roger had actually saved his money for something useful. I didn't think to ask him where it came from, he wouldn't have told me anyway.

I grabbed sweaters and pants out of the closet that Roger and I shared. I folded them neatly and placed them in organized stacks in the duffel bag, which was also mysteriously produced by Roger. As I put my stuff in my duffel, I glanced over to his.

I got what I expected. I had expected to see a mess of old t-shirts and jeans. And that is _exactly_ what I saw.

"Rog, could you come in here a minute?" I asked. I didn't even realize that he had left the room…

"What's up, Marky?" Roger walked into the room with his hands in his jeans pockets. He was wearing that disgusting brown sweatshirt. I don't know where that thing came from…but it needed to go…Roger wouldn't let me take it, though. No offense to him, I love Roger to pieces, but it made him look fat.

"Um…what's wrong with your duffel bag? You need to repack it." _Shit, that came out wrong._

Roger's expression dropped from cheerful and happy to hurt instantly. It was obvious that he had packed the bag all on his own and that he was _very_ proud of that. He looked so cute when he was upset, but I felt bad every time it was my fault or I couldn't fix it. I could fix this one, though.

"I mean…um…" _Dammit…_ "Let me help you refold your clothes so that they fit in the bag…that's what I meant. Kay?"

"Alright," Roger said as his face brightened. He walked over to the bed, where the duffel bag was sitting. "What did I do wrong? Those are folded!"

"Um…. no, they're not, baby…those are wadded. Look…" I removed an old Well Hungarians shirt and a pair or fairly new jeans. I folded them and put the clothes in a stack on the bed.

Roger followed my lead, removing all the contents of the suitcase and refolding them.

-ten minutes later-

"Marky?" (I had left the room). "I'm doooone!!"

I was so proud of him…even the boxers were folded!

"Alright, Rog. Great job. Let's hightail it outta here. And fast…I've needed a break for a while. I'll leave Collins a note…do you know when we'll be back?" He shook his head no. "Even better." I scribbled a note on a post-it and stuck it on the empty fridge. "Let's go."

I grabbed his hand, smacked him on the cheek noisily, picked up the two duffel bags, my camera case, and slipped quietly out of the sliding metal door. I had to be quiet or Collins would have heard us…

Roger 

Mark had seemed so surprised that I had saved up my money for him. I have no idea why. It's not like I'm always br-…wait…yes I am. We're all always broke, save for Collins and Joanne.

I had already bought the tickets for the airplane there and back. I paid for the hotel we would stay in, plus had another wad of money for food. The money I had been counting this morning was for extra stuff.

I had half expected Mark to at least be pleased when I told him…I guess I expected too much. Oh well, at least he had agreed to go. I was so excited I could hardly contain myself.

Once the two of us were on the street, Mark undertook the task of hailing a cab. He tried without success at least ten times. However, when I waved my long arm in the air, the first taxi I saw pulled up to the curb.

Mark looked at me in what looked like awe. "Why are you so amazing?"

"Because I have youuu," I cooed. He hung his head and blushed. Typical Mark. I kissed the top of his head. "I love you," I whispered into the blonde hair.

"I know…I love you, too Rog," He said into my leather jacket. I smiled, grabbing hold of his hand as I opened the door of the cab with my other hand.

The driver was Italian, with thick eyebrows and a large nose. He focused on our hands, which were intertwined with the others, and gave the two of us a disgusted look. "Fags…" He muttered under his breath, not intending for either one of us to hear it. But we did.

I paid no attention, but Mark was horrified. "Excuse me? What did you say? Never mind…I already know. You don't like us? Well, buddy, that's what you get for working in New York City. Sorry, but we'll find another taxi. Let's go, Roger." And with that, he pulled our two bags and I out of the car and slammed the door.

I stared at him. I couldn't believe that he had _actually_ spoken up for himself. Not that he couldn't, just that he never had. Apparently he was astonished, as well. "I…I can't believe I just did that…did it really happen, Rog?"

I hugged him close to me. "Yeah…it did. I'm so proud of you, Marky."

Another cab pulled up just then, driven by a man who looked gay himself. We climbed in, still holding hands. "Where to, gentlemen?" He asked politely, smiling at Mark.

I pulled him closer to me, to emphasize the fact that Mark was _mine_. "Buffalo Airport, please," I said.

"Certainly," He replied, starting the engine and cruising down the street.

It was a really long drive to Buffalo from Alphabet City, so Mark laid his head on my shoulder and was asleep within minutes, seeing as I had woken him very early. I rested my head on top of his and soon nodded off myself.

**Review, please! updates are on the way...as well as for Shopping Day and Her Torment.**


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note – Sorry about the forever wait…I had a science test, a math test, and two history essays…plus I had to write this! So…here ya go!

--

Roger 

When we go to the airport, I handed the boy a fistful of money, thanked him, and unbuckled my seatbelt. I then focused on the tedious task of waking Mark without causing him to bitch at me. Mark, as most everyone knows, does _not_ like to be woken up.

I stroked his head and gently called his name. When his blue eyes fluttered open, he looked around and said, "We're at the airport?"

I sighed and smiled. He really _was_ a blonde… "Yes. Now, come on, we're gonna be late and miss our flight."

"Alrighty." Mark said thank you to the driver, receiving a smile so huge and flirty that the boy would have beaten Maureen at a flirting contest.

I grabbed our bags from the trunk of the car and walked into the airport with Mark following close behind.

Mark

As we quickly strolled through the airport, I watched Roger intently. His ass swaying back and forth, he turned back every now then and smiled sweetly at me each time. It was hard to believe that he was really mine. It was also too hard as well as painful to know…every time I looked at him…that he would be gone too soon.

He could go any day, at any time.

I quickly shook my head, attempting to rid myself of the thought…For the moment, that is. The fact that strong, independent Roger could die so early and just…leave me here…was too much for me to handle at the moment.

The next time he glanced back at me, I smiled back as earnestly and as bravely as I could.

I ran to catch up with him, his long, skinny legs taking two steps for every one of mine. I took the suitcase from his right hand, put it in my left, and slipped my hand into his. He pressed his lips to the tips of my spiky blonde hair just before we got to the metal detectors.

The woman standing there looked somewhat like how I remembered Nannette. Dark, straight hair, hazel eyes, shortish, and skinny.

She spoke to Roger.

"Boarding passes?"

That's when it dawned on me. "Rog! We don't have tickets!"

He looked at me kinda funny, stuck his hand into his inside jacket pocket, and pulled out a packet of papers, staring into my eyes the whole time. The woman, whose name was Kamahna, according to her nametag, laughed as she took the packet from Roger's hand.

She inspected the papers inside thoroughly before handing them back to Roger.

He smiled down at me and took my hand again.

--

I walked through the metal detector first. Of course, I set it off. A frightening looking, huge security guard took my arm roughly and set me off to the side.

Roger, of course, passed through with no problem. Everything seemed to go right with him…I noticed then that he wasn't wearing a belt. I was. I also had metal screws in my glasses. I explained this to the security guard and he looked at me suspiciously before letting me go.

We walked, awkwardly silent, down a carpeted hallway that eventually would lead us to our terminal. If the hall would end, that is.

When we finally got to the gate, there was, of course, only one seat. Roger and I looked at each other uneasily. A woman glanced over at us, and then looked at our hands, just like the asshole cab driver, and she shook her head in disapproval.

Roger 

I could feel Mark start to quiver at the glance from the woman. He opened his mouth to speak, and I acted without thinking. I turned his body to face mine, put my hands on his waist, and kissed him hard. He softly responded, but then pulled away as quickly as I had sprung on him, looking me in the eyes, that icy blue gaze threatening to burn a hole in my skin.

"No, Rog…not here…not now…" He whispered, blushing, and looking even more furious than he had two seconds earlier.

"Why not?"

"…I…don't…know…" He trailed off and looked down, studying a scuff on his shoe.

All eyes were on us now. I pulled Mark in for a hug. He unwillingly came towards me, but gave in, wrapping his arms around my torso, burying his face into my chest.

I could feel two wet spots forming where Mark's eyes were.

--

REVIEW!!!!! Do you want more of Rog's POV? Cause I love Marky too much, I think…


	4. Chapter 4

Roger

I stood, still as a statue, with my arms around Mark. The stares of the crowd were lessening, as was Mark's death grip around my waist. I kissed the top of his head again and released myself from his grasp.

"_Flight thirty-seven A, please prepare for boarding. Your plane will be leaving in exactly thirty-two minutes,"_ the loud, harsh voice blared over the intercom system.

"Thirty-seven A, that's our flight Marky."

He lifted his head, looked at me through glistening, tearful eyes, and nodded. "Okay."

We stood in the boarding line _forever_, given the fact that there were five gazillion people in the line. When we finally did get on the plane, Mark started bouncing up and down in his seat.

"Uh…Mark? You shoulda gone pee in the airport."

"I don't have to pee, stupid. I'm excited! I haven't been on an airplane in such a long time…"

I opened my mouth to speak, and then changed my mind. What I was going to say was much too embarrassing.

"What was that, Rog?"

"I didn't say anything…"

"No, but you were going to…what was it?"

"I…I was just going to say that I had never been on an airplane before…"

He looked at me in total shock. "You're kidding…"

"No…you know, broken, scattered childhood, didn't get out much…"

"Then I'm going to have to take you on another airplane trip…until you lose count of how many you've taken."

--

When we landed after a _miserable_ ten hours on the plane, I slipped my hand into Mark's and laced our fingers together. We went through the procedures of getting off the airplane, getting our baggage, and getting out of the airport with the greatest of ease.

Once outside, we stood on the curb and hailed a taxi, remembering Mark's taxicab hailing inabilities.

The ride to the hotel was comfortable; the driver was a sweet older man who was very talkative. Eventually, we got to the hotel, checked in, and went to the elevator, heading for our room.

Mark 

I hate elevators. I always have. But somehow, having Roger with me in there…alone…was somewhat comforting.

I was leaning against the mirrored wall of the little room and Roger was standing awkwardly in the middle. Gradually, he turned and leaned in towards me, put his hands on either side of my body, and bent down to kiss me.

The soft, gentle kiss turned passionate very quickly. Magically, the elevator never stopped moving until we reached our floor.

DING!

The mirrored doors opened; I broke the kiss. I felt kind of guilty for doing it when I saw the look on Roger's face, but someone had to do it…and I knew Roger wouldn't.

I smiled up at him and whispered, "I love you, Roger."

"I love you too, Marky."

--

Another filler…. I feel so bad!!! But don't you worry, it's getting better by the moment.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note – I'm sorry about all the delay…let's just say that I get distracted easily. Like…I'll be typing something and see that my nails need to be filed…and then I end up doing a whole manicure…and then I do my makeup for fun…then I get distracted by something else…yeah, I'm pretty sad. Anyway, here be Chapter 5…RENTheadSyndrome – I put of-doom-ness in here for you.

--

Roger 

The room was beautiful, aside from the ugly carpet that always comes with hotel rooms. The bedspreads were gold and black and red; they looked almost Oriental.

I set my key card on the TV cabinet and dropped the suitcases on the floor with a thud. Mark disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the lock click as I walked over to the bed.

I fell back, all the decorative pillows bouncing around me. One pillow in particular stood out to me. It was circular and had stripes on it, but all of the stripes were different. Every single one.

I hugged the pillow to my chest, curled up in a ball and shut my eyes, waiting for Mark.

Mark 

I came out of the bathroom to find Roger in a ball on the bed. I could tell from his deep, even breathing that he was asleep.

I smiled and walked over to the bed, kicked my shoes off, and then climbed onto the queen next to Roger.

His eyes fluttered open, revealing all the gorgeous greenness of them. I shushed him, kissed the tip of his nose, and settled myself against the sculpted torso. Roger's eyes closed once more as he pulled me closer to him. Within minutes, we were both asleep.

--

When I woke up, the first thing I did was look over at the clock. It read 6:27 pm. As if on cue, my stomach growled.

I leaned over and pressed my lips to Roger's, waking him. He smiled, and then opened his eyes.

"That was the nicest way I've woken up in a while…" He too glanced at the clock. "You wanna go eat?"

"Could we? I'm starving."

"What kinda food do you want? I've heard the Chinese food here is to die for."

"Chinese it is then."

I jumped off the bed and sauntered over to my duffel on the floor. I unzipped it and pulled out a grey sweatshirt, remembering how strangely cold it had been when we had gotten there. I encouraged Roger to do the same.

I spoke both wisely and unwisely. I should have known that he would bring that nasty brown jacket of doom…I decided then and there that I would pay for a new sweatshirt for him. Maybe a blue one…he looked good in blue.

Roger 

I didn't want to wear a sweatshirt…it wasn't cold enough outside. But Mark wouldn't let me touch him or leave the room until I did, so I finally pulled it over my head.

When it was positioned right on my upper body, I jumped at Mark, who was barricading the door. My lips crashed against his. He pressed back, then pulled away, laughing.

"It's a good thing I love you Rog, cause you're so crazy…who else would?"

"HEY!"

He smiled and kissed me quickly before we snuck out the door.

--

Review please!!!! And don't you worry, the goodness IS coming, it's just gonna be long and drawn out and gradual.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note – This is short…buckle your seatbelts, folks…this is gonna be one teary ride. Hopefully.

--

Mark

"Rog…put the sweatshirt _on_. It's not doing you any good if you're carrying it!" I took a shot at pouting to get what I wanted.

He sneezed. "Fine…geez, Mark, you're better at pouting than Angel was…" He trailed off, a sad expression covering his beautiful face.

"Hey," I said. "It's okay…I miss her too."

Roger smiled down at me. "Thanks, Marky. You win a kiss." He leaned down and pecked the tip of my nose.

I began to tickle his ribs, which always made him laugh to no end. He laughed and squirmed around, but then he began to cough.

He coughed and coughed, leaning over and putting his hands on his knees. His face turned red and he began to gag. I panicked and didn't know what to do, so I just stood there and rubbed his back, feeling like an idiot.

When he finally calmed down, he straightened up, shook his head, and sniffed.

"What happened, Rog?"

"Um…I think I swallowed a bug…"

I nodded and agreed with him, although I knew better than to believe that he swallowed a bug…

Roger 

I knew that Mark wouldn't believe me, but I tried at the pitiful excuse anyway. I knew the minute I stepped out into the cold, biting air that something was going to happen…and it wasn't going to be good.


	7. Alexandra

Author's Note – The story is coming to a close soon…I hope…I'm ready for this to be over. The girl described is representing me and one of the experiences I had while I was in San Francisco. Sisternese is sister language…you know…strange hand motions, mouthing words, what not. And yes, my mother is a homophobe…terrible isn't it?

--

Roger 

I could tell that Mark didn't believe my bug story. If he had, he would have been having a panic attack. But he was acting completely calm, cool, and collected…totally unMark in any situation.

Involuntarily, my head began to spin and my chest started to ache. The virus was taking hold…I could feel it in my bones…

As Mark and I walked up the hill hand in hand, we both simultaneously caught sight of a family of five walking down the hill towards us. A tall, curvy brunette who looked about seventeen was in the front of the group and rapidly moving farther away from them. Her hair sat on her shoulders and her arms were crossed in front of her. By her body language and facial expression, it was understandable that she was trying to get away from the yelling family behind her. The girl had been looking at her feet and when she looked up, she smiled warmly at Mark and I.

The grumpy looking woman who was obviously her mother caught up to her. When she caught the girl looking at us, she said, "Don't look at them, Alexandra."

The girl, whose name was evidently Alexandra, changed expressions from a sweet smile to an angry stare. Her eyebrows knit together and her eyes narrowed into tiny slits. "Why?" she almost snarled.

The mother rolled her eyes, unhappy that her daughter had put her in this awkward position. "Because…they're…different from us…that's all."

Mark started to blush…the hurt boiling to the surface of his face.

The girl's eyes flamed with anger, but she quickly rolled her eyes and the anger disappeared a bit. She looked like she would explode if she didn't take drastic measures.

"Alex!" A smaller girl from the family called. I guessed that they were sisters.

Alexandra whirled her head around to look behind her. Her sister said something in Sisternese and stuck her head out at her mother's back. Alexandra snickered, smiled at Mark and I once more, and then went on her way, still ahead of the now screaming family.

Mark 

In those last three minutes, I had changed. Because of that girl who had defiantly stood against her mother, I, for some reason, became more comfortable with Roger. I tightened my grip on his hand, which seemed to please him.

We walked along for a while, exchanging small talk while I quietly gathered my courage. After about five minutes, I stopped walking. Roger stopped as well, looking lost all the while. I took in a big breath and stretched up on my tiptoes and kissed Roger deeply on the lips.

When I pulled away, Roger stared at me, astonished. "You…just kis…in publ…" He trailed off…his mouth hanging half open.

"Yeah…I did…"

He pulled me into a backbreaking hug and just stood there.

"Can't…breathe," I gasped.

"Oh…sorry Marky."

"Ah, that's okay. I love ya anyway."

"Thank you, Dr. Seuss."

Roger 

When we got back to the hotel, Mark was in bed almost instantly. Right before I climbed in next to him, I could have sworn I heard him whisper, "Thanks, Alexandra."

I smiled, kissed his forehead, and when he didn't move, I knew he was asleep.

I got into the bed, spooning Mark. I wrapped my arm around his torso, closed my eyes, and muttered, "Thanks, Alexandra."

--

Sorry for the corny ending…it was 2 am and I wanted to finish the chapter!


	8. Come Back Now

Author's Note – Let the drama and sadness begin.

--

**Roger**

Three days later, I woke up before Mark, which was a rarity. When I started to stretch to wake myself up, my chest started to sting and ache, making inhaling even a small breath close to impossible. I tried coughing a little, but that only made the excruciating pain worse.

Wincing, I got out of the bed, very careful not to move the sleeping Mark, and walked to the bathroom.

**Mark**

I wasn't asleep.

I had woken a few minutes before Roger and was perfectly content watching him sleep. When he woke up, I watched him with my eyes in tiny slits. I watched him because his health had gotten increasingly worse over the past three days, although Roger would never admit it, and I wanted to see him as he was without knowing that I was watching, because he wouldn't be wearing a façade. It practically killed me to have to watch him endure all that pain and agony.

The disease was doing its magic…or working its witchcraft, I should say. The cold, wet climate of the city had gotten to him and was now quickly eating my Roger away.

I had to get him back to New York.

--

I slipped out of the bed and just stood on the carpeted floor, contemplating whether to confront Roger about my fears. I told myself that I had to, that there was no turning back.

I opened the bathroom door and saw Roger sprawled out on the cold tile floor.

"Shit…" I muttered.

I knelt down beside him and stroked his cheek. When he didn't respond, I was overcome with dread. I put my face down next to his mouth and when I felt him breathing on me, I relaxed a little.

Just a little.

Roger was unconscious on the bathroom floor in a hotel three thousand miles away from my home…There was no way I was going to be in the least bit calm.

I grabbed Roger's hand and just held it in mine for a while. Then, without letting go of the big hand, I crawled over to the phone on the wall of the bathroom. I dialed someone's phone number, but I wasn't sure whose it was until they picked up.

"Hello?"

"Angel! I need to talk to Collins."

"Sure, honey. Hang on."

"Okay…" I was on the verge of tears at this point.

"What's up Mark? Having fun in the city?"

"No…yes…well…I was…but it's way cold here…and wet too…and Roger plus wet and cold equals BAD."

"Holy crap, what happened?"

"Well…about three days ago we were walking and he started coughing for like…five minutes. And over the last three days, he's just been getting steadily worse. But he won't say anything to me…I asked if he was feeling okay the other day and he just brushed it off like it was no big deal. And now I am sitting on the bathroom floor of our hotel room with Roger unconscious next to me. I'm so scared, Collins…" Tears began to pour down my cheeks, but I hardly noticed. All I could concentrate on was making sure that Roger kept breathing.

"Oh fuck…Mark, you need to get him back in this loft by tomorrow night, you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Good. It's gonna be okay, Mark…don't worry."

**Roger**

When I opened my eyes, I saw Mark on the floor next to me on the phone, crying. I tried to sit up, but I got _really _dizzy, so I lay back down.

Mark seemed to have noticed my movement, because he moved closer to me. He muttered something in to the phone, nodded, and put it back on the stand.

He looked at me for a moment, and then started to speak. "Roger, we're going back to New York. I'm going to go pack for you, get us checked out and everything. You need to take a shower and get into the bed, you got it?"

I didn't understand. "Why are we going back, Marky? I don't get it…"

"Because the cold weather here is killing you, Roger. I know you won't admit it, but you're dying. And it's not gonna be long. Which is why we're going back to New York."

I shook my head. "No, Mark. I'm not dying. I've had this fucking disease for five years now. I can't die now…" I started to cry. I couldn't handle the fact that Mark would be left alone, once again. And it would be all my fault. It was _my _idea to come to this stupid city in the first place.

I wasn't going to win this fight. Or either one of them, for that matter. Mark was going to win, as well as the disease.

"You're right. When are we leaving?"

"Collins said that he wanted us back by tomorrow night, so hopefully very soon."

I nodded. "Okay." Shamefully, my voice cracked. Now Mark knew that I had been crying.

"Oh, Roger…I didn't mean to make you cry…I just want to protect you…as long as I can…I'm sorry."

Mark leaned over and kissed my forehead very lightly, and then got up to leave. He stopped in the doorway and whispered, "I love you." I caught sight of one tear falling from his chin.

He then disappeared around the corner and began to pack, leaving me alone in the bathroom with my tears, thoughts, and fears.

--

Hi! Sorry again about the Mark rant…it was just necessary for the situation…cause I couldn't really have an unconscious Roger talking…narrating…whatever. Please review!!!!


	9. The End

Author's Note – This, my friends, is the end. Thank you SO much to the people who have been following the story and putting up with my crazy slow updates. And just a warning, Mark goes all OC on us in this chapter…completely by mistake.

--

Two weeks later 

**Mark**

Roger died three days after we got back to New York. We rushed him to the hospital less than an hour after we arrived. Well…actually, Collins took him while Angel stayed behind with me, just sitting there, holding my hand while I cried. I stayed because I could hardly stand to look at the weakened, crumbling, fading Roger, much less practically take him to his death.

Many things came into perspective for me on that freezing cold October day. I came to understand that all of Roger's quirks; his sarcasm, the random guitar chords that never seemed to fit together properly…they were all gone…forever. Of course I knew that that would happen when he told us that he was HIV positive, but it never really clicked until he was actually gone.

I understood a lot of things…except one. Why I had been left alone. Again. All the pain and anguish that Maureen had caused me when she left hit me again like a ton of bricks when Roger looked at me for the last time.

--

The day of Roger's funeral, very few people were present. Maureen, Joanne, Collins, Angel, and I. Benny showed up as well, which shocked us all. A measly congregation of six.

--

When I returned back to the loft, I slipped into the bathroom and looked at my reflection in the dirty, cracked mirror.

My tear-stained, puffy, red face. I knew what I looked like when I hadn't been sobbing for hours on end, but still, I wondered: Who could ever love me?

In my opinion, my personality wasn't too loveable either. I was anal, obsessive, irritating, and had a very quick temper.

I looked down at the sink that my hands were gripping so tightly that my knuckles were turning white. I fixed my gaze on the overused razor that sat next to the faucet.

One pull…that's all it would take… 

I picked up the razor, took a deep breath, and pressed the cold blade to my wrist.

As if on cue, Maureen dramatically kicked the door open, singing at the top of her lungs.

"MARK!" she screamed when she saw what I was about to do. She jumped at me and knocked the razor out of my hand. "What do you think you're doing?!"

Of all the times I had seen Maureen angry, this was the most furious I had ever seen her. Tears started to run from her eyes down her cheeks.

From the look on her face, I could tell that she wanted an answer. Looking at the floor, I answered her. "R…Roger's gone…no one else wants me…I…I have nothing left to live for," I sobbed.

Maureen's expression softened. "Mark, you have your whole life ahead of you, what are you talking about? Don't give up now. Roger wouldn't want you to."

"But…Maureen, he's gone, why should he care? There's no one else left here to love me. I know _you_ don't love me…and no one else really loves me as more than a friend or a brother."

"Mark…god…see, this is why no one wants you. You're so god damn frustrating and depressed and stubborn and closed up all the time. You never have a positive outlook on anything. Everything happens for a purpose, Mark. You just need to look ahead. Don't dwell in the past so much."

I stared at her, my mouth hanging open. "You're right. I am frustrating and stubborn. But all the same, I have no one left for me. No one wants to love the geek who hides behind the camera."

"Well…maybe you should come out from behind the camera and come out of your little protective shell and do something with your life."

"Mo…" I sighed. I wasn't going to win this one. "You're right. I just need to move on. Am I still allowed to be upset?"

She sighed as well. "Of course you're allowed to be upset. Someone you love just died. You just can't dwell on it forever. You need to go out there and live your life, Mark."

I nodded very slowly and put the razor back on the counter gently, ready to live my life to the fullest.

The End.

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Okay, so Mark went suicidal there…wow…like I said…complete accident. Totally. I love Mark, I'd never kill him. Did you like this chapter…this story? Please Review!


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